


Naval Mastery

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Drake's Venture
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master decides to mess up Earth's history because it's The Doctor's 'pet' planet. While he's at it, he picks up a pet for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naval Mastery

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

It is an unassuming planet, totally bland and unremarkable. I cannot fathom any reason for the Doctor's fondness for this one speck of matter amongst the infinity of time and space available to Time-Lords. I have visited it on several occasions in the course of my rather strained relationship with him and found the climate insufficiently salubrious and the inhabitants insufficiently amusing. In general Earth is insufficient.

However, it is the Doctor's most vulnerable point. His favorite portion of fly-speck is called, variously, England, Great Britain, the Commonwealth, the United Kingdom, etc. etc. Quite grandiose, having so many names for a mere island. Through sheer effrontery, this island made itself a world power and continued to exert influence down through the ages out of all proportion to its size, strategic location and natural resources. They eventually insinuated their way into space and corrupted the universe with teatime, comedy video and other inane customs.

The first rule of a Time-Lord is never to meddle with known events. Well, sod that. I intend to meddle until the Doctor's precious little primitive paradise reverts to being a nest of blue-painted, naked savages and stays there. That will teach him to throw my offer to co-rule the cosmos back in my face!

As I have no wish to devote the entirety of my thirteenth incarnation to this task, I seek a single pivotal event to disrupt. Having found the moment, I direct my Tardis to my rendezvous with the appointed time and place. 

I step out from my Tardis, which has disguised itself as a tent of rough cloth, identical to the other one erected further up the shore. There is a chill, salt-laden breeze, and absurd black and white birds huddle and mutter to themselves, in an inadvertent mimicry of the equally absurdly garmented men who huddle and mutter to themselves at the other side of the strand.

No one notices me as all eyes are focused on two men, a stocky, red-haired ruffian with a fair beard and a dignified dark-bearded man on whom the absurd style of the time is actually rather flattering. I have arrived slightly early and pause to listen to them in order to assure myself I have correctly identified my target. Conveniently, they call each other by name. The redhead is Drake, the other is Doughtie. Drake is apparently as bullying and sadistic as history (after its correction by amateur researchers) would have him. First he goads Doughtie into attacking him, and then he has the man's hands bound, when there is no place for him to go, surrounded as he is by Drake's mariners.

It is an interesting show. I observe as Doughtie's innocent belief in the power of righteousness and observance of his society's laws is shattered by Drake. I see it in his eyes as he loses the last illusion that his friend cares for him. It's quite touching, actually. Drake plays the watching men with a consummate (if vulgar) skill, teasing with the pretense of humanity; then playing on greed and fear (which are far more reliable motivators.)

I see Doughtie's eyes change again. I expect fear, or anger, but instead there is... acceptance. Sane and calm acceptance of the inevitable. This is intriguing. This is the first of the Doctor's pet humans that I might... well, why not? I came here to disrupt history, I may as well have some personal gratification also.

I step forward. "Drake! You have been tried by a higher judge and found guilty!" Drake turns towards me, roaring threats. My tissue compression eliminator converts him into a very small, very dead, manikin. Not that it matters, but I suspect Drake well deserved it even before this day. Not losing the momentum occasioned by Drake's dramatic demise, I go to Doughtie, put my hand between his shoulder blades and push him toward my Tardis. "Go into the tent and await me." Doughtie, eyes wide in shock, stumbles through the sand to the Tardis.

"Drake's arrogance and quest for world domination has angered God!" There is a mutter about Satan, rather than God, being responsible. I silence the speaker with another dose of TCE. I don't care whether they think me a devil or a saint, either will work as well for my purposes. "Take Drake and this other fool back to your Queen. Pickle them in brine and serve them up on her royal banquet table to show her the folly of appetite! Let England be satisfied with what she has, and not seek for more!" 

It would be pleasant to think they will obey me, but in the long run, it isn't essential. Sailors talk, and rumours spread, and there isn't another English sailor with the unique combination of ruthlessness and ability as Drake. The Spanish Armada will rule. England will fade into a quiet backwater. The Doctor will be furious.

One man, finer dressed than most, steps forward, nervously. "Sir, what of Doughtie? He argued against the captain-general. He has not..."

I laugh. "Doughtie is innocent, yes, but he is not free. I have saved his life, and it is _mine_."

I return to my Tardis and send it off on a random course. Doughtie is nowhere to be seen. Well, of course not, those hadn't been the eyes of an idiot. He's hiding... but not for long. My Tardis knows my desires and shifts subtly inside. A moment later I look up at the sound of bootsteps, and smile at Doughtie's startled face.  
   
"True magic," Doughtie says, and sinks to his knees, awkward because of his hands, still bound behind his back. "Master...?"

"The Master, if you don't mind." I find a sharp implement and cut the ropes binding him, my hand light on his shoulder. "Your Master, Thomas." I see a flash of rebellion in his eyes, quickly submerged behind... not fear... reverence. Yes, Doughtie will do very well indeed. 

"Will you take me as 'prentice, Master? Teach me the ways of your magic?" He fumbles beneath his shirt and extracts a misshapen blob of fused metal swinging on a cord of twisted silk. "I can already create simple amulets with the help of the Good God and his Angelic Host." He makes a complicated motion over his chest as he speaks and seems reassured when I do not recoil from him.

"Perhaps I will." I examine him more closely than I hitherto had leisure. He is indeed a well-formed man, with an intelligent face, and quite remarkable eyes and mouth. "There will be a price to be paid, of course."

"Of course, Master." 

The man has courage, agreeing while no doubt believing the price will be hideous. And perhaps it will be, to him. Not that I care. I lift his chin and kiss him, our beards mingling as our lips meet. "You will be the price," I tell him as I impress my will upon him, my mind binding his to unthinking obedience.

"Yes, Master," he says softly, eyes wide and soft and unresisting as he rises to his feet and follows me to my bedchamber.

"Take off your garments," I tell my new pet. I watch as he strips. His costume is elaborate, and none too clean, despite obvious attempts to keep it so –the marks of brush and sponge still show. He has not bathed recently, either, a fact that is apparent beneath the heavy scent of mingled musk and unsubtle citrus and florals. When he stands naked before me, I walk about him, observing him intently. Clean-limbed, well-muscled, yet not to excess, pale, fine skin dusted with dark brown hair at chest and groin. His hands are less elegant than competent, but his feet are pleasing. His feet are in point of fact much nicer than the Doctor's, which are all angles and knobs. As is the Doctor. Doughtie's eyes and mouth, as I previously noted, are quite fine, and his eyelashes would do a courtesan proud. I put my hands deep into his hair and pull him into another kiss. He is taller than I, but not awkwardly so, as is the... why do I persist in comparing them?

Doughtie is a mere human, a pleasant interlude, a chance to further my revenge on... I lose my chain of thought as Doughtie's tongue enters my mouth and he presses his body against mine. All warm male animal, his scent arousing even behind the mask of crude perfume. "To hell with the Doctor," I say, grasping his hands and putting them to the hidden fastenings of my own clothes.

"To Hell?" Doughtie murmurs as he obeys. His eyes widen and his hands tremble. "Nay, good Master, we cannot, tis a sin!"

Before I realize what he is about, Doughtie breaks free of my mind control and pulls away from me. "We cannot!"

"We can, and we will!" I lock eyes with him again, and thrust into his mind, keeping him paralyzed. "I am now your God and you will obey no other!" He looks terrified. "I, thy God, am a jealous God." I push him back onto the bed. He whimpers as I undress and he discovers that one does not judge a Time-Lord by the length of his legs. I find his fear an aphrodisiac. I have never had a human before. In fact... no, it's true now that I think of it, I've never physically raped anyone before. 

The closest I came was the Doctor's companion Adric, but he was such an annoying child that even rape lacked appeal. He wasn't even amusing when put to torture. Sniveling brat. Now Doughtie... yes, there's a possibility... must try pain on him. Not now. Not until he has learned to beg for it. "And you will beg for it." He looks up at me in mute incomprehension, vulnerable, eyelashes casting shadows against his cheekbones. How delightful. I prepare him swiftly with economical motions while he gasps and his muscles tremble with the suppressed urge to flee or to fight. Poor little primitive. I force his legs up, out of my way, and sink into him.

"Well!" Who'd have thought humans were so warm and soft inside? And so tight. He fits me like a glove. Doughtie shivers beneath me as I thrust. He cries out suddenly and closes his eyes. "NO!" I command, "You will not hide from me, no matter how much it hurts!"

He opens his eyes and looks at me in despair. He whispers, "It wasn't the pain, Master." His fair face colours beautifully.

I grin at him, wickedly. "You're a slut, Thomas. You simply never knew it." I slow my hips and make a circling motion, watching his eyes. He whimpers and arches, displaying his own sex, now erect and bobbing against his belly. "This knows it." I grasp his cock and stroke it roughly. He groans and thrusts in my hand. "Yes." I work him until he's moaning and forcing himself back onto me, helpless to resist the pleasure I inflict on him. 

I keep him on the edge for a long time before letting him have his release. And then I have mine, holding him down until my orgasm finishes. He gasps as I pull out and rise from the bed. "Master?" his voice is weak and frightened. I smile. Poor little primitive.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Master, will you teach me your magic?" 

I laugh. "Perhaps I will. Perhaps I will at that." I give in to an urge I didn't know I'd been resisting, and I stroke his hair. It is as soft and silky as it looks. "Perhaps I will make you my companion and show you the secrets of time and space."

Doughtie smiles, and I see that he has magic of his own. Yes. Perhaps I will make him my companion. I settle beside his hot human body and he turns trustingly against me, eyelids closing and kiss-swollen mouth parted. Such a pretty head. So very pretty. I kiss him gently and close my own eyes to rest for a little while.

There is still a cosmos to conquer... but perhaps there isn't as much hurry as all that.


End file.
